Suppress the Guilt
by mekelon
Summary: Gilderoy Lockhart is not guilty… Is he? [one shot] [character death] [language]


**Title:** Suppress the Guilt: Gilderoy Lockhart's Story  
**Author:** mekelon  
**Disclaimer:** The characters Gerald Foghorn, Lancely and the two unnamed are mine. All else belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do not intend to infringe copyrights, and this fanfiction was written purely out of the motivation to write.  
**A/N:** Chyeah. I wrote this ages ago - between GoF and OotP. I love it none the less. This is the revised edition, 2006.

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**Part One: Must have looked a funny sight!**

A young man of only twenty or so, dressed in a pair of fresh black robes stood in front of a brown door with a lion head shape door knocker. His quivering, pale hand reached out to grab the golden lion head. He leant forward and looked into the lion's eyes. Sighing, he drew his gaze away and tapped the door with the knocker.

"Hello?" he called out quietly.

"Coming!" An old, excited voice called out – muffled somewhat through the thick wood and the decreasing distance between the two men. The brown door opened and the young man saw himself staring down at an old, wrinkly man without much hair and two faint blue eyes. The old man smiled. "You're the writer then?"

"Yes, Gilderoy Lockhart."

The old man stared smiling for half a second as he registered Gilderoy's name. His eyes brightened as he gestured his visitor in. "Come in! Oh, do come in."

Gilderoy was led into a rather nice living room with furniture from the mid eighteen hundreds. The walls were covered in a pinstriped, brown paper to match the Victorian style and furnishings of the room. He seated himself in a brown armchair and was offered a choice of either tea or coffee. As the old man left to attend to the drink, Gilderoy opened his black satchel. He pulled out a bottle of ink and a few pieces of parchment.

The old man returned with two cups and saucers, sugar, milk, teaspoons, scones, cream and jam resting on a tray. He set the tray down and sat opposite Gilderoy on a comfortable armchair with a rather excited look on his face. "Oh, I've forgotten to introduce myself. I'm Gerald Foghorn, just call me Gerald, won't you? That's a good lad. Now… Shall we begin?" Gerald took his cup and saucer and held it in his wrinkled hands.

Gilderoy nodded, his quill paused at the top of a parchment. It was best with people like Gerald, who were typically quite fond of rambling on, to begin the interview immediately, not to waste time in niceties and polite small talk. "I assume you attended Hogwarts. Say, which of the Houses were you sorted in, sir?"

"Oh, it's Gerald, son. Call me Gerald. Now let's see. I was terrified when I got there. You remember the nervousness don't you lad? And I wasn't too far away from the Sorting Hat. You can understand that it gave me quite a fright when it started singing. And so loud too! Ah, yes, I remember it as clear as crystal..."

Gilderoy wrote as fast as his hand would allow, writing quotes, and notes.

"Now, when it was my turn, I hadn't any need to be nervous now, did I? Of course, I didn't know it then. I know it now. Don't I? Yes. Well, I sat on the stool and they put the hat right on my head. It must have looked a funny sight. A great big thing like that – fallen over my eyes.

"Now, what did it say? Oh yes, I remember. It said, 'There's no doubt. A Gryffindor you are!' I had no idea that it no one else could hear what it was saying to me, but I was scared it was going to tell the world! Oh, it was a funny sight! When it shouted out 'Gryffindor,' I went to the table that shouted and clapped the loudest! Yes! What a funny sight..."

"_In Slytherin?" A voice whispered. The small boy looked around under the big hat anxiously._

'_Not Slytherin!' He thought, remembering what his father had told him on Platform 9 ¾ only minutes before the great scarlet train whistled, impatient to go where the small boy wanted to stay as far away from as he possibly could.  
"Well, you're surely not Gryffindor material... And Ravenclaw is particular on academic intelligence. Hufflepuff, I wonder?"_

'_Hufflepuff?' The boy thought anxiously. _

"_The best suit for you _is _Slytherin. You've got the ambition, and the desire for power and success. Are you sure you'd rather another?"  
'I'd rather none!' The boy thought with defiance._

"_I still say, Slytherin. But next best I suppose is Hufflepuff. You may not be so loyal, and have no tendency for hard work. But where else to put you? And Hufflepuff takes all the same..."_

'_Then put me in Hufflepuff. Let it be anything but Slytherin,' the boy thought, the desperation for this prolonged sorting to be over with increasing within him. _

"_All right... If that is what you say. But Hufflepuff is what forever you will stay!"_

'_I don't care! _Anything _but Slytherin.'_

"_You wish is granted." The resigned voice whispered for the last time, "But beware, I do not see you happy here. Perhaps you will change. Let's, for your sake, hope so."_

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The voice suddenly shouted. The small boy, with curly blonde hair, lifted the hat off his head, and half ran to the table where the rejoicing was loudest.

**Part Two: Never quite got it right...**

"Now, where was I?" Gerald asked as he returned from the kitchen with fresh tea. "Oh, yes. I remember. I fear that in some classes, I never quite got it right. Not exactly right at all. You see, I had a friend, and he'd always help me. But still, I wonder. Why didn't I ever quite get it right?"

Gilderoy looked up strangely at Gerald. "Never quite got what right Gerald?"

"Well now, lad. Didn't I tell you? Essays, dear boy; I never learnt them properly, and they were _indeed_ a tiresome task! Especially the ones for History of Magic..."

"_You can't go making things up on the spot! And Lockhart, _you _can't take a written, published, non-fictional event and make it your own! It isn't right. I'm severely disappointed with the both of you. Simply because your usual Professor isn't here this term, does not mean you can slack off!"_

"_But Professor, I did see two of the things that I wrote in the essay!" The boy called Lockhart interjected._

"_Two? Out of ten? Lockhart, you are being ridiculous! At least Lancley here had the decency not to plagiarise! You on the other hand have given in something that is much too unbelievable, and not to mention familiar to me, to pass without suspicions. And I know very well that you can't speak Mermish. You had proved it yourself, needing my assistance to talk to the Merpeople last week." The young professor stormed heatedly back to her desk. Wearily, she sat back down into her chair, and held her head into her hands. She sighed, and raised her head. "The both of you will be receiving a week of detention, 50 points from Hufflepuff, and 25 from Gryffindor. And, I expect from the both of you a true account of what you saw by Tuesday, 5th period, or another week of detention. I will _not _arrange for you to go down again. And Mr. Lockhart, you will write to Mr. Salamander with a full apology for __plagiarising_ _his work. Any questions?"_

"_Yes, why does Lancley only get 25 off?" Lockhart asked, rather annoyed with the punishment he was receiving. _

"_Well, did he copy almost word for word the work of a famous author and experienced traveler?" _

"_No professor."_

"_Then you've answered your own question. That will be all."_

Part Three: Spot of Trouble 

"Before I tell you about that, you'll have to remind me again, I have to explain that I was always one in a spot of trouble."

Gilderoy looked at the man with a reassuring smile on his face. He'd decided to begin using the Quick Quotes quill so he could think up more questions while the man was talking. "Of course, Gerald."

"I suppose it started in third year. I was rather clumsy, but I'd never created a big accident before. Of course, every time I did, it was never intentional..."

"_I knew it!" The younger boy shrieked._

"_Shut up!"_

"_It was entirely your fault!"_

"_I'm warning you!"_

"_Well, what are you going to do? I'll remember anyway, and I'll tell everyone. You caused it to happen. So go on. Tell me, how?"_

_The older boy held the wand in front of the younger one's face menacingly. "You won't tell a soul."_

"_Sure I won't. Every one knows you're not a true Hufflepuff anyway. Going ahead and making friends with the Slytherins. Jinxing Gryffindors in the corridors... Blaming it all on Lancley - just because he figured you out first. It makes perfect sense now. Bet you were meant to be a Slytherin," the younger boy taunted._

"_All right, you want the truth? Yeah, it was my fault it happened. I didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. And it's a good thing it happened properly. A good thing she's dead. And yeah, I was meant to be a Slytherin. But I fooled you all for four years! Four bloody years! Next time, it won't be so short. Because no one else is going to know..."_

"_You're sick. You made her die, you sick bastard!"_

"_I said, SHUT UP!" He pointed the wand in between the younger boy's eyes and yelled out the Memory Charm. _

_Panting heavily, he looked into the fazed, blank eyes of the younger boy. "You saw me come in here before you. I was looking for my scarf. Understand?"_

_The younger boy nodded, and the older one stormed to his bed and grabbed his scarf before running back out to the empty common room. _

**Part Four: Next Christmas too?**

"What are you doing, lad?" Gerald looked at him rather scared.

Gilderoy's wand was raised high and he looked straight into the eyes of his first victim. "Making a fortune." He muttered the Memory Charm, and a blank look fell across Gerald's face. "I'll see you in Christmas Great Uncle Gerald!" Gilderoy put on a fake smile in a pretentious cheery voice.

"Next Christmas too?" Gerald asked in a funny voice. "Is Christmas soon?"

"Yes, soon."

"I'll be happy to see you lad. Now, er, what was your name?"

"Never mind."

"It'll come to me. Things always do."

"It had better not," Gilderoy muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing Great Uncle."

"I see."

"Goodbye then. I'll let myself out." Taking his satchel with him, he stepped out the door, and closing it behind him glanced at the lion head door-knocker for the last time. The cold rushed around him, arousing his senses. And with a hum, Gilderoy Disapparated, vanishing from the quaint Muggle street with a small _pop_. A stray cat leapt away from the wall in shock, scooting towards a bush nearby. Before he left, the last thought lingered in the air, 'No, I'm not guilty... Am I?'

_Finis_

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A/N: What was the accident? Who died and why? Of course, you'll never know. I couldn't possibly tell you! It's there for you imagination to wonder, and be inspired.  
And what did Gerald do that was so great? Why did Gilderoy pick him as his first victim? Easy, Gerald is old, I can't tell you what he did that was worth writing about – it's up to you. And lastly, Gerald hadn't yet told any one about his great adventure. He was expecting a memoir, so that all of the wizarding world will remember him though none actually ever knew him. He is, as you might have seen a rather lonely man. 


End file.
